


Three-Part Harmony

by kageygirl



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-05
Updated: 2005-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:05:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/kageygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just an old-fashioned love song...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three-Part Harmony

**Author's Note:**

> Set during and after 2x04, "Duet." Title and summary courtesy of Three Dog Night.

When the knock came at her door, Teyla was holding her last meditation posture, balancing carefully on the bed to stretch the long muscles in her back. She smiled to herself. How she could have mistaken Ronon for Elizabeth, Teyla was not certain, because Elizabeth was unfailingly polite about formalities.

Even when she had been invited over, and despite Teyla's repeated assurances that such formalities were unnecessary; Teyla sometimes thought of it as an intricate dance, the way they navigated one another's social customs.

"Enter," Teyla called, sitting up straight. "Dr. Weir," she said, still smiling, and Elizabeth cocked her head as she smiled back.

"Teyla," Elizabeth said, eyeing her with curiosity as she set down a small pot of hot water and a familiar wooden box. "Have I done something to amuse you?"

Teyla shook her head and shifted closer to the edge of the bed. "Merely reminded me that I should have more care in my assumptions. You are not my first visitor this evening, but you are the first one I had been expecting."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as she took her customary seat--in the same chair Ronon had occupied earlier, as it happened--but Teyla knew she would not pry unless invited. As she would rather not betray Ronon's confidence, or the content of their conversation, Teyla shook her head and changed the subject. "How is Dr. McKay?"

Elizabeth opened the box and made the preparations swiftly and efficiently, then dropped the tea infuser into the pot. "He--and Lieutenant Cadman--seem to be doing well enough, for now. Though I'm sure everyone will be happier when we can get the lieutenant back where she belongs."

Teyla nodded as she fetched two earthenware mugs and a small tray to set them on. "I'm sure this is very trying for both of them," she said, sitting back down on the bed.

"Not to mention Dr. Zelenka, and Dr. Beckett..." Elizabeth poured tea through the strainer into each mug. "Here--this is called Orange Pekoe."

Teyla took the mug she was handed with a nod, fixing the name in her mind to associate with the taste.

Elizabeth raised her own mug to her mouth and inhaled the fragrant steam, then looked at Teyla across the rim. "I hear you got into an altercation with Ronon."

"Did Colonel Sheppard tell you so?" Elizabeth didn't answer, but her silence was answer enough. Teyla cradled her own mug and felt her lips curve into a grim smile. In their next sparring session, she would have to show the colonel a few moves she had been holding back. "I'm afraid you have been--misinformed. Colonel Sheppard can be..."

"Overprotective?"

Teyla bowed her head without looking away, her eyes narrowed, sure that Elizabeth would understand her meaning. "Needlessly concerned."

Elizabeth reached out and brushed Teyla's hair back from her left shoulder, tracing delicately over Teyla's collarbone. Her fingers were warm from her mug. "You _did_ spar with Ronon today."

Teyla tossed her head back, but made no move to cover the bruises that must have appeared. "Yes. And I foolishly dropped my guard, and received a reminder that was long overdue." She smiled again, to dispel the clouds in Elizabeth's eyes. "For which Ronon has already and unnecessarily apologized."

Elizabeth drew her hand back and tapped a finger against the edge of her mug. "What do you think of him?"

"Ronon?" Teyla took a cautious sip of her tea, testing the temperature. "I think he is a strong fighter."

Elizabeth frowned, elegant eyebrows drawing together. "I'm sure he is, but I need to know more than his fighting ability."

"I was referring to more than his fighting ability." Teyla took a larger sip of her tea, smiling in response to Elizabeth's questioning look. The tea was almost as pleasant as the company. Continuing the conversation, Teyla said, "His will is strong, but his ends are the same as ours, I think. I believe he can be an asset in our fight against the Wraith."

"Thank you. I appreciate your evaluation." Elizabeth shifted in her chair, pushing her own hair back with distraction as she gazed over Teyla's shoulder.

"You are uneasy about him."

Elizabeth balanced her mug carefully between her hands. "What gave it away?"

"Lies are better told with the tongue than with the body," Teyla said, quoting an old adage. She waved a hand at the way Elizabeth was fidgeting, small gestures that betrayed her thoughts.

Elizabeth glanced down quickly, smiling a little. "I see your point."

"I am sorry. I did not mean to imply that you were intending to deceive me." Teyla laid her hand on Elizabeth's knee, pressing down in a way meant to reassure. "But that is part of why I feel that Ronon's goals may be compatible with... our own."

Teyla hoped Elizabeth would not take her hesitation as a slight. Ronon's visit had also reminded her that affiliations were often only a matter of perspective, and she was thinking too much, when she should have been simply enjoying Elizabeth's presence. She dipped her head, and said, "He is sparing with words, but I do not sense deceit in him."

"I've been trying to give him a chance to acclimate a little, but I will need to speak to him myself." Elizabeth rotated her mug gently with one hand, watching her tea as it swirled within. "Right now, all I know for certain is that he knows how to fill out a pair of leather pants."

Teyla blinked in surprise. Her fingers twitched on Elizabeth's leg. "I... did not believe you noticed such things."

"Just because I try not to be swayed by the sight of an exotic, attractive stranger in leather doesn't mean I don't notice." Elizabeth was peering at her again over the top of her mug, her eyes bright and mischievous, and her warm fingers drifted deliberately across Teyla's knuckles.

Teyla rubbed a hand along the base of her own neck, fingertips tingling when they met the textured suede of her top. She met Elizabeth's look with her own knowing smile. "I shall keep that in mind."

* * *

"Dr. Beckett?"

Carson looked up from Rodney's latest scans--his vitals had stabilized, and the MRI was clear, so Carson was hopeful that Rodney had suffered no permanent damage. Radek Zelenka stood outside Carson's office, cradling his forearm awkwardly, and Carson stepped out to meet him. "Dr. Zelenka--what seems to be the problem?"

Radek held out his wrist, rotating it to show an angry red burn across the underside of his arm, below his pushed-up sleeve. "I was wondering if you had something for this--I did not wish to distract you earlier."

More like, didn't want to stop what he was working on. Rodney's bad habits were shared by his cohorts, though Rodney, at least, didn't hesitate to seek medical help. For anything.

In this case, though, Carson was glad of their dedication, because it had resulted in the two healthy patients sleeping in the next room.

Carson took Radek's arm gently, looking over the burn--first-degree, not serious. "It doesn't look too bad--I've an ointment to put on it, and I'd like to wrap it to avoid infection." He turned to a rack of supplies, asking over his shoulder, "How'd you get that, then?"

He heard Radek chuckle, a rusty sound. "To tell you the truth, I don't remember. I must have leaned against some part of the beam emitter that I should not have."

"Here we go." Carson came back with the ointment and the gauze, and waved Radek over to the sink before snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. Radek didn't flinch under the cold-water rinse, but his expression was troubled when Carson looked up at him. "Something the matter?"

"Dr. Beckett," Radek said softly, then paused. "I am very sorry that so many of your mice did not survive."

Ah, that. "It's all right. One of the nice things about mice is that, given sufficient time, they make more mice." He gave Radek a quick smile, nodding when Radek met his eyes. "They did die for a good cause, you know."

That got him a smile in return, if a bit sardonic. "As I am sure Rodney will agree."

"I don't doubt it." He had Radek rest his elbow on a clean towel while he uncapped the ointment.

"Have you ever played chess with him?" Radek asked.

"Rodney? A few games." Carson spread the ointment on as gently as he could. "Not for a very long time, actually, now that you mention it."

"As far as I know, he rarely plays with anyone anymore." Radek pushed up his glasses with his free hand. "He says that it is because we do not challenge him enough."

"Oh?" Carson glanced up, and caught the wry twinkle in Radek's eyes. "And what do you say?"

Radek raised his eyebrows. "I say that he has become very much worse at the game, and does not like to show it."

"Has he, now?" He grinned at Radek as he unrolled a length of gauze to cover the burn.

"He has." Radek nodded seriously. "He has become very attached to using his knights, but he has developed a strong aversion to sacrificing any of his pieces." The amusement faded, and Radek smiled a gentle mournful smile. "Even the pawns."

Carson stilled his hands for a minute, meeting Radek's gaze. "Yes, I can see how that would trip him up." He taped off the gauze, then stripped off his gloves and laid a hand on Radek's shoulder. "You should be getting some rest, yourself. You've been working for how many hours now?"

"Too many." Radek pulled his sleeve down gingerly, covering the bandage. "Thank you, Dr. Beckett. And yes, I should. Instead, I will wait for Rodney to wake up, so that he will have someone to reassure him of his continued brilliance."

"Not that he needs it," Carson said, rolling up the rest of the gauze and setting it back on the shelf.

"No, not really."

Carson turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're too good to him, you know that."

Radek gave a faint shrug, just a twitch of his shoulders and a quirk of his eyebrows. "No more so than everyone else who has not yet strangled him."

Carson considered Radek, rumpled and tired and having been subject to far too much of Rodney's sharp tongue, yet still capable of good will and humor. Tapping his fingers against his arm, Carson said, "Now that I think about it, it really has been too long since I've played a good game of chess. I may be getting rusty."

Radek blinked at him, then straightened up, inclining his head towards Carson. "Would you care for a match sometime?"

"That'd be brilliant."

Radek spread a hand out in offering. "I have a set in my quarters."

"And I have a bottle of whiskey that'd sooner be shared than be drunk alone."

"Then we must not disappoint it." Radek beamed at him, then picked up the tablet PC he'd left on one of the empty beds, glancing toward the room where Rodney and Lieutenant Cadman were still recovering.

Carson chuckled as he stepped away from the shelves. "You're planning to stay here, I take it?"

Radek looked back at him, nodding politely. "I'd like to, if it's not too much trouble."

Carson ushered him around the corner of one of the strange architectural pillars, so that they could see into the other room. "Not at all. You're not the only one." He waved toward Elizabeth and Colonel Sheppard, heads bent in conversation as they kept watch on Rodney from across the aisle. "Let me see if I can round up another chair."

"Thank you again, Dr. Beckett," Radek said, holding his arm out a little.

Carson gave him a stern look--one of the mock ones, the kind that Rodney got when he squirmed, or that the colonel got when he tried to escape from a physical. "First of all, if you're going to drink my whiskey and beat me at chess, it's Carson. And second of all, as often as you keep _that_ one occupied and away from the infirmary--" he said, pointing his chin at Rodney, "--I'd say we're even."

"Very well. Carson." Radek grinned at him, sharp and sly, and offered Carson a handshake. His grip was firm and confident, but Carson knew him too well to be surprised by the strength of his grasp.

* * *

"Not entirely uncool."

Rodney blinked rapidly, trying to force himself to look like he hadn't drifted off again--which he clearly had, because a) Sheppard had appeared again and was giving him that completely unendearing smirk, b) everyone else seemed to have vanished during what Rodney would have said was only been a second or two, and c) Rodney obviously needed to do something else to fulfill his embarrassment quota for the week. Since all of the above were indisputable, he gave up trying to appear awake and frowned at Sheppard. "I'm sorry, Colonel?"

"You're fine, sure," Sheppard said, taking a step closer that let Rodney read Sheppard's exact level of amusement, with the head-tilt and the laid-back stance and the hands on his hips. "But I wouldn't say you're entirely uncool, either." He narrowed his eyes at Rodney and tipped his head the other way. "Ninety-nine percent, yeah, but not a hundred."

"You wound me with faint praise," Rodney said, a little distracted, because he'd just realized the bed to his right was disturbingly empty. "Where's Cadman?"

"Beckett let her go earlier," Sheppard said, glancing at the empty bed, too. "Since she hadn't had a seizure or anything, like you did."

"Oh, how nice for her," Rodney said, though his heart wasn't quite in it. As relieved as he was to be the sole occupant of his own head again, he found the silence oddly unfamiliar, and a little disconcerting. But Sheppard's eyebrows were drawing together, and Rodney wanted to cut him off before Sheppard decided to ask anything that Rodney couldn't answer. "So. Ninety-nine percent. The margin of error for your calculations comes in, where?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Well, you can fly a Puddle Jumper. That's pretty cool."

"Depending on your definition thereof," Rodney muttered.

Sheppard just grinned. "I think it's cool. Not that you do it all that well..."

Rodney rubbed his forehead. "Strangely, the more you keep talking, the less complimented I feel."

"But you can do it," Sheppard went on, and oh look, the self-satisfaction was reaching epic proportions. "Plus, you're not entirely untrainable on small arms."

"Which is exactly how I wanted to be remembered, thank you. Armed and bloodthirsty, scientific accomplishments be damned."

"I thought those went without saying." Sheppard slouched against the side of Rodney's bed, one hand resting on the mattress. "I figure I don't need to tell you about the wonders of your brain."

"And yet I recall a comment about getting stuck with me being 'your worst nightmare'?" Not that Rodney disagreed, per se, because, god, the running commentary he might be subjected to if no one else could hear Sheppard? He'd probably delight in trying to make Rodney look as demented as he could.

"That's just because I don't need to see the man behind the curtain." Sheppard leaned in, lowering his voice confidentially. "It's more fun to watch you work from the outside, Rodney."

"I--thank you," Rodney said, feeling his face grow hot at the way Sheppard was watching him.

"And it does take a certain amount of panache to step in front of an untested, jury-rigged transport beam like that." Turning his head a little, Sheppard squinted, giving him a sideways look. "That doesn't mean I want to see you do it again any time soon, you understand."

Rodney winced at the thought of Carson's barbecued mice--which he'd been doing his best not to dwell on at the time. "Well, it's not something I want to do again any time soon--or, ever, really."

"That's good." Sheppard nodded down at him. "I like you in one, corporeal piece."

Sheppard's eyes glinted warmly in the infirmary lights, and Rodney found himself glancing away, staring instead at Sheppard's hand, splayed across the blanket. Sheppard had nice hands, sure and graceful and steady and oh god, what was he thinking, Carson must have drugged him, which had to be contraindicated for someone who'd been disassembled and inexpertly reassembled multiple times, not to mention almost _arguing_ himself literally to death--

"Rodney?" Sheppard's hand was on his shoulder now, and Sheppard looked like he was trying to avoid looking concerned, ending up at uncomfortable instead. "The only voices in your head right now are the usual ones, right?"

"Right," Rodney said, then shook his head and scowled. "No, I mean--" He sighed. "Feel free to get back to extolling my virtues, Colonel."

"Oh, I was pretty much done," Sheppard said, leaning away. He seemed far too pleased with himself, smiling and pointing a lazy finger at Rodney. "Besides, you lost a lot of points over your kissing technique. Just watching it happen was disturbing."

"When did...? That wasn't me, that was Cadman!" Rodney sat up straight as Sheppard's smile became even more insufferable. "I'll have you know that I am a far better kisser than that."

"I'd like to believe you, Rodney, but from the evidence I've seen..." Sheppard raised his eyebrows, and Rodney was at a loss to decide where exactly to start disabusing Sheppard of his very, very wrong ideas.

Sheppard glanced around the empty infirmary again, then leaned in again, very close, close enough for Rodney to feel Sheppard's breath graze his neck, making him suppress a shiver. "Of course, if you wanted to give me another demonstration, I'll keep an open mind."

Rodney stared, eyes wide, as Sheppard backed away, and the smile on Sheppard's face went small and funny and difficult to interpret. Sheppard ducked his head and headed toward the door, stopping halfway there and pivoting back to face Rodney. "Oh, I almost forgot. Beckett said you can go whenever you feel up to it."

Sheppard gave him a little wave before walking away, just a bit faster than usual. Rodney opened his mouth, closed it, said, "Son of a..." to no one at all, and then quickly started hunting for his pants.


End file.
